


Whatever It Takes (To Be a Prince)

by MezzoElegy



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous Relationships, Ambiguous relationship is ignoct, Blood and Violence, Character Death, Cliche, Gen, Torture, Witness Protection, in case there was any confusion about that, like holy crap, terrible fight scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-24 13:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14356047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MezzoElegy/pseuds/MezzoElegy
Summary: At the end of the day, no matter what happens to the kingdom, the prince must always be there to ensure its survival. If that means running away and hiding... well, Noctis will just have to live with it.He'll just have to hope everyone else lives, too.(Do you guys remember that movie "Princess Protection Program"? I do.)





	1. Plans in Motion

**Author's Note:**

> Note, this entire story will be rewritten at some point-- mostly I'm just trying to get it out right now. If I don't, it'll melt my brain. But it'll actually be good at an unknown time in the future. Promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea is, Lucis and Niflheim are still at war, but there is no prophecy because Ardyn dicked off a while ago, so it's just... Lucis being hopelessly outmatched during an important time. Screw Aldercapt, in particular.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I already sort of have an idea of where it's going, though, so be prepared for the rating and tags to change as it develops.

The setup had gone off without a hitch. Of course it had—Noctis’ advisor had been the one in charge, and in planning such a magnanimous event, Ignis had been perfect, as in everything. The Citadel was ready, the decorations tasteful, and even the itinerary had been written down, copied to everyone imaginable ( _Only those strictly necessary_ , Ignis had said, but Noctis still thought it was a bit excessive), and planned so meticulously that there was absolutely no chance anything could go wrong. Guards would be standing here and here, Noctis over there and his father sitting up there—

Noctis rubbed his eyes. The coronation was a big event, sure, but he didn’t understand why it had to be so complicated. Couldn’t he just walk up to his father and trade his crown for the king’s? Then it would be over, and there wasn’t any need for all the agonizing _ceremony_.

A voice that sounded suspiciously like Ignis whispered in the back of his mind. _“A coronation is for the people, not the heir. One must be seen—the intent is to make it known that you and only you are in charge, and that you will be competent while doing so.”_

“Shut up, Ignis,” Noctis hissed at the papers in his hand. He was promptly startled out of his thoughts as his advisor’s voice came from across the room for real this time.

“I hadn’t yet said anything, but if you’d like…”

Noctis scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, Specs. I wasn’t talking to you. Uh… not exactly, anyway.”

“I’ll refrain from commenting on your general lack of clarity,” Ignis said dryly, but not without a smile. “I imagine the stress is getting to you.”

“Something like that,” he sighed. Dropping his schedule, he slouched down into the couch and covered his eyes. “Seven days isn’t long enough to figure all of this out. Who’s who, and they do what, and dad’s retiring before he keels over, which is great, but did it have to be my birthday? I wanted to sit on the balcony with you and maybe Gladio and get wasted for my twenty-first, not take the crown in front of the whole world.”

A weight settled on the couch next to him, followed by a hand on his shoulder. Noctis peeked through his fingers to see Ignis’ gloved hand squeezing, thumb rubbing little circles into the joint. He sighed.

Ignis remained silent for a long moment, but after a while, he murmured, “I know. We can do that after the event if you’re feeling up to it.”

“Really?” Noctis asked, uncovering his eyes to meet the sharp green that he’d been looking into since he was four. “You’d do that, even though you’re going to be exhausted from pretending to be an extroverted flirty gentleman all night?”

“Coffee was created specifically with my needs in mind, you know,” Ignis jokes, a fond smile pulling at his lips. “Of course I will. It would be remiss of me both as an advisor and as your friend to not celebrate your twenty-first birthday with you. It’s practically mandatory.”

Noctis avoids the intensity of his gaze by looking down at his itinerary. Sometimes—not often, but especially in moments like this one, he could feel his advisor’s devotion so acutely it ached.

“I don’t know what I did in my past life to deserve you,” he exhaled, and Ignis just smiles. “All right. I guess I’d better get back to studying this thing. Won’t do me any good not to know anything about my own coronation.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Ignis said, standing and brushing off his pant legs in one quick movement. “Do take care, and pay special attention to the outline for the rehearsal tomorrow; I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.”

Noctis wrinkled his nose, finishing his thought in an approximation (a surprisingly good one, though not as good as Ignis’ own Lucian accent) of Ignis’ voice. “Lest you embarrass me, by proxy.”

“Good man,” Ignis smirked, and left the apartment with a flourish.

He sighed again, burying his nose into the notes in the futile hope that proximity would aid his retention of them. Maybe if he slept with them under his pillow…? He shook his head and went back to memorizing how and where he was supposed to stand. The next day, all too soon, his knowledge would be put to the test.


	2. Under Duress

“And the prince stands here… no, just on that line—yes, perfect,” an attendant nodded, releasing Noctis’ arm when he landed on the exact spot he was supposed to stand. “Very good. You wait until all have risen, and then…”

Noctis’ eyes wandered over to a flash of movement to his left. One of the Crownsguard had run up to Gladiolus in a hurry, panting something urgently that he couldn’t quite make out. Gladio’s low voice rumbled across the room, unintelligible amongst the noise, and Noctis craned his head to try and make out what he was saying before the attendant waved his hand in front of his face, effectively disrupting any chance he had at seeing what was going on.

“Prince Noctis, please pay attention,” the man sighed, and Noctis grinned sheepishly.

“I’m sorry. My Shield, he, um—”

“Highness!” Gladio called, and then the doors slammed open and people started screaming. Noctis shoved the attendant back into the safety of cover before running to Gladio, who was already moving to cover him. Looking around the best he could, he could see dozens of Imperial soldiers, guns pointed towards the few people that had been around for the rehearsal. On the other side of the hall, he could barely make out his father behind Clarus’ imposing figure.

“What is the meaning of this?” Regis demanded, voice booming.

In the silence that followed, Noctis could hear the calm footsteps of someone approaching the center of the throne room. Moments later, he saw Emperor Aldercapt himself step into view, hands lifted.

“King Regis,” he exclaimed, bowing theatrically. “What a pleasant surprise! I hope you’re well?”

“I would be better if you hadn’t brought an army into my home,” Regis snarked back.

The Emperor nodded sagely. “Yes, well… as circumstances would have it, the army is non-negotiable. I’m afraid I have some bad news—I’ll be needing you and your son to come with me. Consider this… the end of Lucis.”

“An audacious claim, for a man so outclassed,” Clarus growled, sword brandished high, and Gladio didn’t shout fast enough to alert him to the sniper taking his aim. In one quick motion, he had darted the king’s Shield, and Clarus fell to the ground, unconscious.

Gladio grabbed Noctis’ arm as they encroached on Regis. “We need to go.”

“But dad—”

“Now!” He hissed, and pulled Noctis bodily through a few soldiers and into the halls winding around the Citadel. He sliced easily through a few MTs before ducking into one of the many rooms with access to the old servant’s quarters. They hurried through the path, breathing heavy.

“Gladio—”

He pulled out a communicator and spoke into it, still sprinting along full-throttle. They reached the stairs and began to climb up instead of down. “Iggy, tell the Marshal that he’s needed on the roof. Plan P. The King was right.”

‘Already done,’ Ignis’ voice crackled through the static, and then they were off again.

“Gladio, what’s going on? What do you mean, dad was right?”

Gladio growled. “Your father thought that the empire would make a move today—what with security being so low, and the fact that both of you would be in one place. So he called in the Marshal and told me to get you out until it was safe, no matter what.”

“I can’t just leave!” Noctis shouted, stopping in his tracks. He was sweating, and breathing wasn’t coming easily to him, but he pushed through it. “Dad needs my help—I can’t just abandon the kingdom to the Empire!”

“You’re not abandoning it, you’re saving your life,” his Shield said, moving to stop him from climbing back down. “And if you don’t go, I will carry you. The Lucis Caelum line has to continue, Noct, even if it means you leave for a little while to save it. You have to disappear until it’s safe to come back and retake the throne.”

Noctis glared at nothing in particular. “… Fine. Let’s go.”

When they made it to the roof of the Citadel, there was a helicopter waiting. He could see Cor inside, leaning out and yelling something over the wind to Ignis. Noctis ran over and let himself be pulled into the seats inside. He reached out a hand for Ignis, who took it, but shook his head.

“I can’t come with you,” he called, barely audible.

Noctis squeezed his hand. “You have to! I—I order you. I can’t do this alone, Ignis, please!”

“This is the one and only order I will ever refuse you, your highness,” Ignis said, eyes unfathomably sad behind his calm exterior. He squeezed Noctis’ hands once before pulling back, ripping his arm out of Noctis’ grip and waving the pilot on. “I’ll see you soon.”

He waved as the helicopter lifted. Cor grabbed his shoulders to keep him from jumping back down as he shouted down—he saw Ignis and Gladio turn around to go back inside, only to fall to the ground as the soldiers shot them. Noctis screamed. Were they tranquilizers, or bullets? He didn’t know, he didn’t—

“Let me go!” Noctis wrenched his shoulders out of Cor’s grip and faceplanted into the door. When had it shut? “I have to go help them!”

“It would be you against an army,” Cor glowered, voice level. “It would be suicide. You want the empire to take over?”

“They already did,” Noctis hit the window with his fist. It wasn’t as hard as he’d intended it to be, but it still stung. “I want to help my friends. My father.”

Cor nodded. “Good. Then you take that energy, and you use it to hide.”

Noctis slumped into his seat, eyes stinging with unshed tears. He wouldn’t cry. “What do you mean?”

“I recently partnered with an agency out of Accordo—they take important people in dangerous situations, such as yourself, and move them somewhere safe while the threat is being assessed and dealt with. Give ‘em a new name, a place to live, and minimal contact with the outside world until it’s safe for them to return.”

“You’re going to put me in witness protection?” Noctis asked, suddenly exhausted.

Cor hummed, looking out the window for a long moment. Eventually, he looked back to Noctis, who was already half-asleep now that the adrenaline had worn off.

“I’m putting you in Prince Protection. Rest up—we’ll be there in a few hours.”


	3. Disappearing

The silence of the hallways was starting to grate on Noctis’ nerves. They hadn’t seen a single person since they’d made it past the guards (unfriendly, mind, but he supposed they were just doing their jobs) at the front of the innocuous-looking building. Accordo wasn’t known for its friendly demeanor, after all, but after being forced out of his home so suddenly, he wanted a _hug,_ not the hostile stares of people that didn’t know who he was.

He guessed that was better than being turned over to the empire, though, and so he sucked it up and followed Cor down the halls without a word until they came to the door he wanted. The nameplate read ‘Altius’, and whether or not that was a name or just a title in one of the many languages he didn’t speak, he didn’t know—he didn’t really care, either, come to think of it.

“Go on in,” Cor said quietly, gesturing to the door. “Ask for Crowe. I’m going to get your paperwork situated and do some investigating. When you’re done, I’ll be outside.”

Noctis didn’t get a chance to respond before the Marshal was off, walking with his shoulders back like he had somewhere to be. He frowned. Pushing the door open, he looked around the room. It was fairly simple; there was a desk at the front, littered with half-empty bottles of water and manila folders. Towards the back, a privacy screen was pulled out, obscuring what appeared to be a trunk of some kind. Next to it, a station that looked like it was meant for cutting hair sat empty, the clean state of the floor around it a sharp contrast to the mess on the desk.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Hello?”

A woman with brown hair poked her head around the corner, eyes widening. She clicked her tongue.

“Ah, you must be Noctis. Come in,” she said, waving him in without moving from her spot in the next room. “Cor said you’d be coming. How are you doing, kid?”

Noctis shrugged, unsure what to say. He was, understandably, upset at the current situation, but he was too tired to complain much. “Are you Crowe?”

She nodded easily. “Yep. I’m going to get you cleaned up and ready to go.”

“Go where?” He asked, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “All Cor told me was that I’d be placed somewhere safer than Insomnia with a fake name and stuff.”

Crowe grinned, gesturing for him to sit down in the salon-esque chair. “I’ve made arrangements for you to stay with some friends of mine in Galahd for as long as needed. One of them has a kid about your age, so it should be… I mean, a bit easier to adjust. As far as that name…”

Her fingers started pulling at his hair, and he was suddenly grateful that he hadn’t thought to put it up that morning. She pinned his bangs back and got to work braiding it, leaving it to fall behind his ears. He squinted his eyes at the light reflecting in the mirror while she worked and tried not to think of his father. Or Lucis. Or Gladio, or _Ignis_ —

“I was thinking. Noct is a pretty common name in Lucis—people naming their kids after you, you know—so we can leave it, unless you’d rather change it completely. It’s not _that_ big a security risk. Noct Altius, how does that sound?”

“That sounds fine,” he murmured, watching her finish with his hair by pulling the rest of it back into a ponytail. She clipped something behind his ear and stepped away, putting her hands on her hips.

“There. Braids are commonly worn by men in Galahd, as well as charms like feathers or chains made by their families. I know you aren’t familiar with their customs, but I figure… I have a black chocobo feather that would be a nice reminder of home while you’re there. Yeah? What do you think?”

He twisted his head around, admiring what she’d done to it. He didn’t even really look like himself—his bangs were pulled into a braid that crossed to the back of his head, where it joined the rest of his hair in a small ponytail. Two smaller braids fell behind his ears, and on one of them, she had clipped a little black feather.

A smile stretched across his lips, despite himself. “Looks good. Do I have to know how to do this?”

“You can learn, if you want,” Crowe grinned, “but no. If you show one of my friends, he’ll do it for you.”

“Okay,” Noctis nodded, enjoying the way the little braids swung back and forth. “I like it. Very incognito.”

“That’s the idea,” she drawled, patting his shoulder. They moved to the trunk, and she pulled out a bag and handed it to him, shaking her head when he tried to unzip it. “It’s a few outfits. Mostly warm-weather. There’s a jacket in there just in case it rains. Nothing too flashy, nothing too dark. Perfectly inconspicuous.”

Noctis hummed, slinging the bag over one of his shoulders. “Thanks.”

“No sweat, kid. Just lay low, and we’ll take care of the rest. You’ll get to go home before you know it. You’ve got a kingdom to run, after all,” she crossed her arms. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“I will. See you, Crowe.”

He left with a wave, closed the door behind him, and began the long walk to the front of the building. Cor would be waiting. As he exited the building, he resolved to do his best. As in everything, he would play his role and play it well. It was time for Noctis Lucis Caelum to vanish.

Noct Altius stepped into the light and into life, ready for whatever came his way.


	4. Galahd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! My terrible version of Galahd, based entirely on that image of the river on the Wiki.

In retrospect, Noctis figured that waiting for Cor to get back with the people he was supposed to be staying with would have been a much better idea. But hindsight was twenty-twenty, and Noctis wasn’t known for making good decisions on the fly. So, instead of waiting on the porch of the cute little house he’d been left on, he dropped his bag on the swing made for two and roamed around the back, looking out across the town.

Galahd really was beautiful—they were on the banks of the river, near a deeper part that he figured would be great for fishing, and there were trees as far as he could see. He’d never seen so many trees in the same place. It was a veritable rainforest. When he looked down into the town, he could barely make out people milling about in the streets. It looked busy, with women carrying baskets on their heads and children running around shirtless, playing games around the feet of the adults. Farther out, the town extended on a few docks, where boats were pulled into harbor and tied up. He wondered if it was a market of some kind, and before he knew it, he was wandering down the hill and into the town.

Nobody looked twice at him as he made his way to the banks of the river, watching a few kids splash around and fight in the shallower waters further away. From the docks, he could smell something delicious mixed in with the smell of fish. He was starving—the only thing he’d had to eat since breakfast the morning prior was a few of those nasty protein bars that Cor carried around, and he’d kill for some meat.

But he had no money, so instead he sat around on a rock and watched the sun rise higher into the sky. Eventually, just before he drifted off, a hand extended into his line of sight, holding out a skewer of some kind of meat. Noctis looked up and saw a young man holding it out to him.

He was blond, which struck Noct as a little odd considering most natives were much darker, and while he had a camera around his neck, he didn’t seem to be a tourist—especially not if he was offering food.

Noctis met his eyes, blue to blue, and frowned.

The young man reddened, shoving a bite of his own skewer into his mouth before mumbling, “You’ve been sitting here all morning. Aren’t you hungry?”

His traitorous stomach gave him away before he could decline, and Noctis sighed. “Yeah, I am. Thanks. You speak Lucian?”

“I was raised there,” the blond said, and, ah, that made sense. “You don’t seem like you’d speak Galahdan, so… Lucian works fine for me.”

Noctis took the skewer gently and bit into it, nearly moaning at the taste. “Shiva, this is delicious.”

“Do you think?” He grinned, freckled cheeks pinkening again. “My brother makes them. His are the best in town—he runs the bar over there with a friend, just off the docks. Do you want to come? I’ll get you some more.”

“Hell, yeah,” Noctis said, eating the rest of it before reconsidering. “Ah, wait. I’m supposed to be waiting for someone. I’m not even in the right spot. I should probably head back.”

The blond nodded. “Oh, okay. I understand. Well, I’d bring you some, but…”

“Thanks anyway,” Noctis shrugged. After a moment, he held out a hand. “I’m… Noct.”

“Prompto,” the other young man smiled, all teeth. “Are you visiting, or…?”

Noctis tilted his head, lips pursed. “Sort of. I’m going to be living with someone for… an extended time. There’s some stuff going on at home, and my… uh, my uncle Cor says…”

“There you are!”

Noctis winced at the sound of Cor’s voice. He forced a grin, despite the Marshal’s angry glare. “Uncle Cor! I’ve been waiting for you. Did you find him?”

“Yes, but it seems that you did, too,” Cor frowned, barely managing to contain the fury in his voice. Noctis exhaled, glad that he caught on to the lie. “Kid, Libertus is lookin’ for you. He said you just ran out without saying anything.”

Prompto blanched.

“Um, yeah! Sorry. I’ll…” He looked to Noctis. “Cor is your uncle?”

“You know him?” Noctis widened his eyes, and Cor snapped his fingers.

“Focus, you two. I managed to get Libertus to head home for a bit, and I told him we’d meet him there. You,” he said, pointing at Prompto, “should get back to the bar before I send your brother back and he tracks you down.”

Laughing uneasily, Prompto scratched the back of his head. “Yeah. Nice to meet you, Noct—good to see you again, uh, Cor. Tell Lib I’ll be home at noon—please? I’ll bring Nyx. Um. Bye!”

Prompto scampered up the rocks that lead back into town, and Noctis smiled beneath the force of Cor’s glare.

“I made a friend,” he said cheekily.

“So you did,” Cor said, eye twitching. “Lucky for you, that young man is the brother of the man you’ll be staying with. You’ll be seeing a lot of him. Now come on, _nephew_ , before I lose my patience. I need to get you settled so I can get back and fix this mess.”

Noctis nodded, jumping off the rock to follow him. He shot him an apologetic smile, but Cor just wrinkled his nose, following the path back up to the top of the hill.

When they made it back to the house, a man in his early thirties was sitting on the porch, waving them over. “You found him?”

“Yep,” Cor grimaced, none-too-gently shoving Noctis up the steps. “Noct, this is Libertus. He’ll be taking care of you while you’re in Galahd. Try not to make his life too much more difficult—he’s already got to take care of two other full-grown men.”

“Nyx takes care of himself, sorta,” Libertus grinned, holding out a hand. “Hey, kid. Like he said—I’m Libertus. Welcome to Galahd.”

Noctis took his hand, deciding that he liked him already. “Thanks. I’m Noct. You’re Prompto’s brother?”

Libertus widened his eyes a little. “Yeah. Well, not by blood, but… I mean, well. You know him?”

“He gave me some food,” Noctis admitted, rubbing the back of his head. “Says you make the best skewers in town.”

“Scamp,” Libertus shook his head, smile fond. “I was wonderin’ where he ran off to with those skewers. Well, yeah—me and Nyx, we run a bar off the docks. You can come visit later, if you want, but first… I’ve got it from here, Cor. You come back and get him soon as everything’s good again.”

Cor nodded, putting a hand on Noctis’ shoulder. “Listen—I’m going to do this as fast as I can, but it’s going to be difficult. You may go a long time without hearing anything, but I promise, I _will_ get those lunatics out of our kingdom. Don’t get yourself recognized, keep your head low, and if anything happens, Libertus is here to protect you. Back in the day, he was a Glaive, believe it or not. All right?”

“Okay,” Noctis said, frowning. “Be careful, Cor. Keep my dad safe.”

“I will. See you soon.”

Cor disappeared down the path, and suddenly, Noctis felt very alone.

“You’ll be sharing a room with Prom, unless you want the—hey,” Libertus frowned, voice turning serious. “You okay?”

Noctis couldn’t figure out how to answer, so instead, he rubbed his eyes. “Just tired. If Prompto doesn’t mind sharing, then that’s fine.”

“He won’t. All right, let me give you the tour,” he exclaimed, pushing the door open. “Living room, kitchen through there. There’s a little TV in there, not that the signal’s very good, but I mean… if you don’t mind static, then we get… the news, mostly. Back through here, the bathroom on your left, my room towards the back, and here…”

He opened the second bedroom door, gesturing inside. “Is where you’ll be sleeping.”

Noctis stepped inside, looking around. It was simple, he decided, but cozy—there’s a stack of books in the corner by the single bed, and the window has been modified to hold a cushion large enough to fit a person extending out into the room. The most noticeable thing about it, really, is all of the pictures on the walls. Some of them are of people he knows, he realizes, looking up at all of them. There was Libertus, and Crowe…

“He loves that camera of his,” Libertus said, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. You can take a nap or something after you get all set in—you look exhausted. Prompto should be home soon enough. I’m going back to work, but if you need anything, there’s a phone next to the TV and a list of numbers on the fridge. Just call the bar.”

Noctis nodded, settling himself onto the window bed. “Thanks, Libertus. I’ll try to stay out of your way as much as possible.”

“Not a big deal,” the man grinned, hands on his hips. “I’ll see you later, okay? Get some rest.”

With that, he left, and Noctis collapsed backwards. Somehow, so little had left him so exhausted, and the bed was surprisingly comfortable…

So far, so good.

Everything would be fine, he told himself. Everyone was okay. He would be okay.

He drifted off to sleep without realizing it, the feather in his hair coming to rest gently on his cheek. He could deal with everything else later. Right then, he needed a nap.


	5. Breaking In

Getting back into the city was not the easiest task Cor had ever set for himself. All things considered, it was difficult to get in ordinarily—with the addition of nearly the entire Imperial army scattered around Insomnia, it was, frankly, amazing that he pulled it off at all. But Cor was nothing if not capable, and so he made it into the city without having to kill any of the armed guards patrolling.

The Citadel, though… That was a different story.

He stared down at the imposing gates from where he sat in the windowsill of an apartment across the street, calculating. He’d been watching the patrols for hours, but they hadn’t yet revealed a consistent pattern of movement—he was beginning to think that there wasn’t one. There weren’t any alternate entrances, and unless he wanted to get shot, crawling over the wall was not an option.

Cursing, he frowned. He’d considered getting _out_ in the event of an emergency, but never did he think he’d have to get back _in._ How, how…

One of the guards crossed the street, presumably to get a coffee at the shop below, and Cor froze.

_Hello, opening._

\---

The armor was heavy, sweaty, and not the right size, but Cor was desperate—desperate enough to seduce a man into following him into the bathroom (skills he learned not from Clarus, but from _Ignis_ , of all people; the man could flirt with a brick wall and it would collapse at his feet if he asked it to) so that he could knock him out and take his armor.

He shuddered briefly at the memory. But it had worked, and that was all that mattered. Now, if he played his cards right, he’d be able to walk around freely.

“Hey, do you know where Hunt went?” One of the guards asked as he walked through the gate. The young lady just inside put her hands on her hips. “He’s supposed to be taking my shift here soon, but I don’t see him.”

“Think I saw him head in to talk to the commander,” Cor said gently, doing his best to imitate the man he’d jumped. “Want me to go look?”

She crossed her arms. “Would you? Thanks, man.”

Cor nodded easily, trying not to look tense. He walked down the path to the Citadel steps, and just like that, he was in. The foyer was surprisingly empty, giving him the opportunity he needed to duck into a side room with access to the servant’s walkways. From there it was a simple matter of finding someone that could help him—Clarus, hopefully, or maybe Gladiolus. Either Shield would be enough brains and brawn to figure out where the King was and how to take down the Emperor.

Where would they be keeping them?

“If they’re even still alive…” he muttered, knowing full well that it would have been smarter to kill them immediately. He’d seen Gladio shot, after all—maybe it had been an actual bullet. He exhaled roughly, patting his cheeks. He needed to focus. They’d be kept in a windowless room that they could guard and lock from the outside—there were no dungeons, so that left… the guest rooms that nobles slept in during long stays at the Citadel. Perfect.

He made his way down winding corridors and up several flights of thin stairs before he made it to the guest chambers. He stepped out of the walls quietly, adjusting his helmet to cover his face again, and couldn’t believe his luck. There, across the room and snarling angrily at another guard that was watching from the door, was Gladio.

Cor nearly grinned.

“Wow, that’s cool,” he exclaimed, making himself look like he’d just come from the walls again. “I found these neat passageways—come check it out!”

The other guard took the bait, making it to the other side of the couch to look behind the bookshelf before Cor grabbed his neck and slammed his head into the shelves, knocking him out much the way he’d done earlier.

Gladiolus lifted an eyebrow. “… Marshal?”

“Not a word,” he glowered, moving to the wall to untie the young Shield. “Are you alright?”

“Better now,” he said. He rubbed his wrists and went to untie his ankles. “How’s Noct? Did he make it out?”

Cor nodded. “He’s fine. Safe. For now. But we need to hurry up and resolve this—where’s everyone else?”

“I think dad and the King are locked up in the King’s room… Ignis was in here, but someone came in to grab him a few hours ago and he hasn’t come back. Didn’t look too friendly, either,” he sighed. “We need to find him.”

“Ignis will be fine,” Cor said, lying through his teeth. He had no idea what the empire had in store for the advisor, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. “He can handle himself. For now, let’s get rid of this guy and hide back in the passageways to make a plan. Understood?”

Gladio looked unconvinced, but an order was an order, even at the expense of his friend, so he nodded.

“Understood.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't really expect Cor to be so important to my story. Crazy. This thing's developed a life of its own.


	6. Nights In

“He-ey, Noct, what do you think of this?”

Noctis looked up from the TV, spoon hanging gracefully from his lips. The news was playing, but he turned it down slightly so that he could look at Prompto where he stood in the living room. He still wanted to be able to hear if there was any news on Insomnia, but… He lifted an eyebrow and hummed through his cereal.

Prompto snorted at the sight. “Classy. There’s this thing at the bar tonight—do you want to go?”

“Um…” He frowned, turning his gaze back to the TV. He didn’t want to disappoint him; he and Prompto had been getting along so well, which had been surprising, at first. Prompto was about as far from Noctis’ personality as one could get: bubbly, energetic, and cheerful, but shy. He honestly hadn’t been expecting to get along with him as well as he did, but he was glad for it. He was a great friend. But he really didn’t want to go to any parties, even an obscure one in a family-run bar in Galahd. He’d had enough meaningless social interaction for a lifetime. “Well, if you want…”

Laughing, Prompto shook his head. “No, man, I’m asking what _you_ want to do. You don’t like parties?”

“Not so much,” Noctis rubbed the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry.”

The blond shrugged, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as he plopped onto the couch. “It’s cool. We could watch a movie, maybe… If the DVD player is working. It’s kind of hit or miss.”

Noctis chewed another bite of his cereal thoughtfully. He waved the spoon in the air as he said, “Well, what about a game night? Do you have… games?”

“Like board games,” Prompto mused. “Back in the Crown City, I liked to play video games, but… We had to sell a lot of the stuff we had to get back here, so mostly we just have board games.”

“That’s cool,” Noctis said, crossing his ankles. “I haven’t played a board game since…”

Noctis blanched—he’d almost slipped and said something about when he and his advisor had been kids. He bit his lip roughly, looking away.

Prompto lifted an eyebrow but said nothing. Noctis supposed he’d gotten used to his tendency to trail off at the end of a sentence. It was a habit that had carried over from childhood. It had gotten endlessly on Ignis’ nerves, but he’d always known what Noctis was going to say, anyway.

He wrinkled his nose. Better not to think of that, right now.

“I’ll go get them,” Prompto smiled, after a long moment. “I’ll ask Nyx to bring us some skewers from the bar, and we’ll play board games here on the floor. It’ll be fun!”

“Sure,” he nodded. “Sounds great.”

\---

Nyx was surprised, needless to say, when he walked in on the crown prince of Lucis with his nephew in a headlock on the ground. The remnants of some obscure board game involving dice and a spinner were scattered beneath them, folding in places it shouldn’t under the pressure of two young adults.

He smirked, lifting the box of skewers with a hand on his hip. “Well, I brought food, but if you’d rather wrestle…”

“—I give, Noct, I give!” Prompto exclaimed, clawing at his throat.

Noctis released him and stood calmly, brushing his pants off before looking up at Nyx. “… Thanks.”

Snorting, Nyx handed it over. “Sure, kid. Need anything else, guys? Feel free to make it as far away from the bar as possible—I’m on break until I get back, so…”

“Nah, we’re okay,” Prompto said, and grinned cheekily as he ducked out of the way of a playful swing from Nyx.

“How’s the party?” Noctis asked, mouth half full.

Nyx wrinkled his nose. He wasn’t much of a party person, either, but it was _his_ bar, and Libertus had insisted, so… “It’s busy. We’re getting a lot of business—tourist season, and all that. No fights yet, so hey.”

Noctis lifted a skewer in solidarity, munching happily. Nyx tried not to smile at the irony of Noctis sitting on a counter and eating a literal skewer of meat so horrifyingly messily that there was seasoning on his cheeks. He failed, obviously, and so he cleared his throat and turned away.

“All right. I’m going back, then—you two have fun. Not too much,” he said, faking a stern voice. He snorted as Prompto proceeded to choke on his mouthful, reddening all the way up to his ears. Noctis, for his part, had very little in the way of a reaction outside of a raised eyebrow, and Nyx found himself a little bit proud. Maybe he could teach Prom how to keep a lid on his emotions.

He left the house, shaking his head when he heard Noctis say through the door, “Want to have some fun?”

Prompto choked again. Noctis laughed. Nyx rolled his eyes and walked away.

Children.


	7. The Newscast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things take kind of a dark turn-- mildly graphic violence of the torture variety ahead, be forewarned.

Noctis woke up the next morning to the sounds of construction and screaming children, and honestly, it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise as it was that twelve hours later, he was walking down Galahdan streets shirtless, covered in body paint, and trying to keep up with Prompto as he danced around the festival.

His father would probably have a heart attack if he could see him right now.

“Prom, wait up!”

“Noct, come on!” Prompto jumped up and down, red streaks on his cheeks a blur with the movement. “We’re going to miss it!”

“Miss what?” He groaned, letting himself be pulled along through the crowds and up to a raised platform. When they finally came to a stop, Noctis looked up to the platform to see two people standing there, a man and a woman, each decked out in traditional Galahdan outfits and all the accompanying paint. By the way they were standing, it looked like they were going to fight.

Prompto cheered loudly next to him as the two fighters burst into motion, punching and kicking at each other so quickly that it was hard to tell what exactly was going on. Noctis gaped—it was incredible. He hadn’t been so taken with a fight since he’d saw Gladio spar Cor that time when he was in high school, and that hadn’t been much of a fight, to be honest. Cor had the floor mopped with Gladio within two minutes, but these two just kept going.

Just when he was sure that they would be fighting for the rest of the night, the woman ducked under a kick from the man and got behind him, spinning him around before knocking him to the ground. She put her hand at his throat, and then the drums signaling the end of the match went off. The crowd burst into cheers.

The woman lifted both of her hands before bowing. Noctis lifted his eyebrows—had she _winked_ at Prompto? Her mask slid down as she bent back over to help her sparring partner up, and Noctis nearly choked.

“ _Crowe?_ ”

She grinned, jumping off the platform to tuck Prompto under her arm in a side-hug. “Hey, kiddies! Enjoy the show?”

“You completely owned that guy!” Noctis exclaimed, looking over to see the fighter in question approaching. He winced as the man removed his mask to reveal Nyx, sweating and with a small bruise blooming on his cheekbone. “Er… sorry.”

Nyx shrugged. “A loss is a loss. Good job, Crowe.”

“Thanks, _Hero_ ,” she smirked, looking to Noctis. “How’re you doin’? You seem well enough—Prom got you run ragged yet?”

Prompto spluttered, frown nearing a pout. “Hey! First, how do you know each other? Why didn’t I know you knew each other?”

“Need to know,” Crowe shrugged. Noctis was surprised when Prompto didn’t ask further, instead huffing out an annoyed breath.

“Fine. Uncle Nyx, you should go take care of that bruise before it gets too bad.”

Humming, Nyx poked at it, wrinkling his nose in discomfort. “Man, little girl. Couldn’t have gone easier on me? I’ll see you later, okay?” He asked, holding his hand out in a wave as he wandered off.

Once he was gone, Crowe turned back to them. “So, how’re you enjoying the festival?”

“It’s so much fun,” Prompto cheered, nudging Noctis’ side. “Don’t you think, Noct?”

“Yeah,” he said, still dazed. “Crowe, where did you learn to fight like that?”

She twisted her lips into a grin. “Oh, you know. Here and there. Cor told you that Libertus was a Glaive, right? Well, Nyx and I were, too. Obviously, we aren’t anymore, but… Those aren’t skills you just forget.”

“Aunt Crowe is really cool,” Prompto said.

“Aw, kid!”

“It’s true!”

Noctis smiled, despite himself. “It was cool.”

“I’m glad you think so,” she said. “Hey, I’ve got to go see Libertus and report in—I _really_ don’t want to have to listen to another of his ‘you’re like a little sister to me’ speeches if I come in too much later, so would you go check on Nyx for me, Noct?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, and Prompto put a hand on his hip.

“I’ll go with you!”

“Nah,” Noctis waved him off. “Go hang out with Crowe for a while. I’ll make sure he’s okay and then meet you at the bar, alright?”

Prompto frowned, but he nodded. “Sure. If you’re sure.”

Noctis didn’t dignify it with a response, instead simply waving as he made his way back to Nyx’s little house on the outskirts of town. It was nice to be away from all the people for a moment, he thought, sighing as he made it to the door. He thought he could hear noises coming from inside but didn’t think much of it. He knocked and let himself in, as Nyx had told him to do.

“Nyx?”

\---

Cor called as soon as he got back to his house, and Nyx knew that couldn’t be good news. The Marshal only ever called him instead of Libertus if something really bad was going on. He steeled himself for bad news and answered the phone.

“Ulric.”

“Marshal?”

Cor’s breathing was coming unevenly through the speaker, tying a tight knot of dread in his gut. “We’ve got a situation. Turns out the Empire was a lot more serious about taking Noctis into custody than we thought.”

“He’s safe,” Nyx frowned, rubbing his cheek. It stung, but that was at the back of his mind. “I just saw him.”

“No, that’s not… just… get your laptop,” Cor growled. “It’ll be all over the news by now. You’ll know what I’m talking about.”

Nyx lifted his eyebrows in question, but did as asked, tucking the phone between his shoulder and his ear. He pulled the internet up, silently cursing the slow connection. When his home page came up, he widened his eyes at the first article under “News”.

“ _Man Tortured in An Attempt to Find Prince of Lucis”_

Nyx swore audibly this time.

“It gets worse,” Cor sighed. “The Empire recorded it—there’s video. It was live. Everyone’s seen it. Poor kid.”

“Who?” Nyx clicked on the article and followed the link to the video, disregarding the warning that came up about “ _Graphic Violence and Swearing”_. He honestly couldn’t care less. His hands shook as the video started. The Emperor himself was standing on the Citadel steps, a man standing next to him and someone else on their knees just below them. Nyx put a hand to his mouth. “That’s…”

Cor grunted. He could practically hear the disgust in the Marshal’s voice as he said, “Scientia.”

Nyx watched the video for as long as he could. He felt his blood boil—he was just a kid, holy _hell—_

“I’m going to kill them,” Nyx said easily.

“Fine,” Cor agreed. “Does Noctis have access to the internet?”

He took a breath to steady himself. “No.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” He paused for a moment. “I have to go. Do _not_ let him find out.”

“Understood,” Nyx breathed, and the line went dead.

The video played on.

_“Where is the Prince?”_

_“Who?” There was a loud smack as Ignis’ head hit the ground. When he was pulled back up, it was by his hair. “Ah, you must mean Noctis. Well, I hate to tell you this, but I don’t know where he is.”_

_The interrogator tightened his grip, bending to grab the wrist of one of his arms, tied together with some kind of wire. “I’m going to break your arm if you don’t tell me.”_

_“I don’t know where he is.” Ignis’ scream was deafening as, true to his word, the interrogator pulled up roughly on his left arm. It was almost definitely broken._

_“Who was the person that took him from the Citadel? Answer me, and the pain stops!”_

_Ignis grit his teeth, looking to the emperor where he lorded above him, watching. Suddenly, he was tearing up, voice breaking. “I only saw one other person—a hairy, older man.”_

_He looked straight at the Emperor as he sobered and followed with, “Perhaps it was your mother?”_

_The kick that resulted was almost as loud as Ignis’ laughter._

Nyx felt the need to vomit. Inexplicably, he was a little proud—somehow, the advisor was managing humor in the midst of debilitating pain, and while he knew it wouldn’t end well, he respected his resilience.

_The interrogator took a knife to Ignis’ forearm, near the elbow, and cut a deep slice into the skin as the Emperor continued his speech. “For every day that the Prince decides to keep hiding, another cut will be added to this young man’s arm. Eventually, we’ll hit something important. I’d hate for such a bright young man to bleed out on the Citadel steps because his Prince is too cowardly to come forward and turn himself in. He doesn’t deserve this. Bring Prince Noctis to me, and this ends.”_

The video stopped on a picture of Ignis where he had passed out, bleeding.

Nyx sat back on the couch, hands trembling. He’d always known the Empire was evil, but this…

“Nyx?”

All he could do was look at the door as it opened, revealing the young man that was never supposed to find out about what was going on.

“Hey, Nyx, Crowe sent me to make sure you were still alive,” Noctis called as he came in, eyes landing on the older man before sliding across the room to his laptop. “What are you…”

Nyx felt his heart stop. He hadn’t moved fast enough, hadn’t closed the video in time, and Noctis had _seen_ —

The prince stared dumbly at the laptop screen, unbelieving. “I…”

“Noct,” Nyx said quietly, half soothing and half a warning. He didn’t know what to do. He’d messed up, _he’d messed up—_

“Is that…” Noctis’ voice broke. He cleared his throat, but it didn’t do much good against the wavering that was there. The question came out as a sob, more than anything, and it broke Nyx’s heart. “Is that Iggy?”

What was he supposed to say?

“… Yeah.”

“Oh.” The young man stared for another moment before bursting into sobbing laughter, hysterical. “N… Nyx?”

Noctis’ legs gave out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That went from zero to one hundred really fast.
> 
> #sorrynotsorry


	8. Cover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who~

The sounds of voices were muffled in Noctis’ ears. Vaguely, he thought he saw people running around him, but he couldn’t force himself to care. The image of his advisor, his childhood friend, lying on the steps of the Citadel like that was burned into his memory forever. They were torturing him. They were _torturing_ him. _They were…_

Noctis felt a hand slide under his jaw, feeling his pulse. Was that Nyx? Prompto? He wasn’t sure—all he could see was a pair of blue eyes and blood on the Citadel steps.

“Noct?”

He whimpered as he was moved up onto the couch. Nyx, then—Prompto wouldn’t have been strong enough to lift him all the way off the ground. He was shaking.

“Noct, please, look at me. Eyes up.”

He met Nyx’s eyes after a moment, not liking the way his face was swimming in some unknown liquid. He wrinkled his nose, voice coming out much scratchier than he expected. What was going on—was he _crying?_ “Nyx?”

“Hey, hey, kid,” Nyx said, voice clearing. “I need you to breathe with me. Ready? In, out… good. Keep going—in, out, slower. Good. Okay. Hey, it’s okay.”

“Nyx, what’s… what’s going on,” he put a hand to his own cheek as a tear slid down. “Why was Ignis bleeding like that? What are they doing to—what are they _doing to him?_ ”

The older man exhaled roughly, putting a hand on his shoulder to ground him. “Look, you need to keep it together. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is _not_ fine! Don’t tell me—” Noctis lurched out of his grip so hard he hit his head on the wall. He turned back and snarled, “Don’t tell me everything is fine! Tell me what is going on, Nyx!”

“Noct—”

The door opened, and a hair of spiky blond hair poked in. “Hey, guys, Libertus said—um, what’s happening?”

Noctis looked back to Nyx. “Yeah, Nyx, what _is_ happening?”

“What did I do to deserve this?” Nyx breathed, running a hand down his face. “Noct, your cover…”

“I don’t give a damn about my cover!” Noctis shouted, causing Prompto to jump. “Tell me why they’re torturing my friend! Now!”

Nyx pulled at his hair. “Fine! They want you to turn yourself in—somebody figured out that the way to get to you was through your advisor, and they’re going to kill him if you don’t head back to Insomnia. Are you happy?”

“No!”

“Well, you weren’t supposed to find out!”

Noctis vaguely saw Prompto standing next to him through his haze. “Why wouldn’t you tell me about this? I need to go help him—that’s Ignis! He didn’t do anything, they’re looking for me!”

“He swore to protect you when he became your advisor, and he’s doing his job,” Nyx sighed. In truth, he didn’t think it was fair, either, but what was he supposed to do about Noctis? Noctis couldn’t be allowed to go back to Insomnia until the Empire was taken care of.

“I’m going to help him,” Noctis said, and turned around to leave.

Nyx groaned, wondering how much trouble he was going to be in for this.

“Sorry, Noct.” He lifted the younger man over his shoulder and carried him into the bathroom, depositing him unceremoniously on the floor despite his screaming and writhing to escape. He shut and locked the door. “I’m going to call Lib. Don’t break down my door—just sit in there and relax for a while, okay? I’ll come get you when you’ve calmed down.”

Noctis kicked the door out of spite but made no move to do anything else. They had to let him out eventually. He’d get back to Insomnia one way or another. No matter what it took.

\---

A light knock on the door had Noctis’ head lifting from where he’d been looking intently at the tile.

“Noct?”

Sighing, he pursed his lips. He hadn’t wanted to talk to Prompto about what had happened—they must have known that he would be more likely to talk to Prompto than anyone else and sent him in as cannon fodder. Luckily for the blond, he had no reason to be angry at him.

“Come in, Prom. I won’t… try to push past you, or anything.”

After a moment, the door opened, and despite the initial tensing of his legs to get up and run, he was a man of his word. Prompto came in, having washed off most of the paint on his skin, and sat down with his back to the wall, facing him.

He watched Prompto bite at his lip for a long while.

Eventually, Noctis sighed, and he decided to put him out of his misery before he bit through his own lip. “So, you… probably figured out that I’m not exactly who you think I am.”

“I… did,” the blond murmured.

Noctis didn’t know what to do.

Eventually, he said, “My name is Noctis Lucis Caelum. I’m the crown prince of Lucis, and I’m here because the kingdom has been overtaken and I was forced into hiding. Noct Altius is the name I was given until it’s safe to go back.”

Prompto couldn’t meet his eyes. “… I had no idea.”

“It was a secret,” Noctis said, shaking his head. “Sorry, man. I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

Tearing his eyes from the floor, Prompto worked his jaw. His eyes were rimmed with the same red that was around Noctis'. “They’re hurting your… best friend?”

Noctis shut his eyes in an attempt to dissociate himself from the image he’d memorized earlier. When he next spoke, his voice was rough. “He’s not… well, maybe. My relationship with Ignis is… well, it’s hard to explain. He takes care of me. Has since I was four. He, um… I don’t know what I would do without him, you know? And he… means a lot to me. I guess the empire figured that out, too.”

The two young men sat in silence for a long while. Prompto rubbed at his lip thoughtfully. “Noct—uh, your highness…”

“Don’t.” Noctis shook his head. “I liked just being your friend. Can we stay like that? Please?”

Prompto smiled, wobbly. “Yeah, sure. Well, I was going to say… I know you must want to get back. Nyx and Lib aren’t going to let you, but… um, I may know someone that can help.”

“Really?” Noctis widened his eyes. “You’d help me?”

“Yeah, why not? We’re friends,” Prompto said. He shifted, leaning forward. “There’s this old man that basically lives at the bar—I think his name is Izunia? Sometimes he gets drunk and talks about how he used to be a Lucis Caelum, or something, which is what reminded me of him, but… He’s got… like, powers or something. And connections to the mainland. If you’re wanting to get back, you should go talk to him.”

Noctis frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. “Izunia? That… sounds familiar…” Unable to place it, he shrugged. “Well, if you’re sure he can help. Can you get me there?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Nyx asked me to bring you back to the house, but the bar is probably fine. Want to go now?”

“Yeah,” Noctis exhaled. “Let’s go.”

\---

As they walked into the bar, Prompto pointed to a dark booth in the corner where a man was sitting, face buried in his arm and a bottle of some kind on the table. “He’s there. I’ll… wait outside for you. Honestly, he’s always drunk and always really ominous, so… he kind of skeeves me out. Let me know when you’re done.”

“Sure,” Noctis said, distracted, and crossed the room to slide into the booth across from the man. “Mr. Izunia?”

He looked up through a curtain of reddish hair, a single golden-brown eye peering at him with a level of clarity that someone as drunk as he presumably was (based only on the bottle—large, mostly empty, and once filled with 150-proof rum) shouldn’t have been capable of.

Noctis bit the inside of his cheek and then cleared his throat. “Ah. You’re… Mr. Izunia?”

“Perhaps,” the man drawled. “And you are?”

He sucked in a breath, steeling himself. “My name is Noctis Lucis Caelum, and I need your help.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Ardyn! Peekaboo!


	9. Making Plans

Based on the way he sat up, Noctis at least had the man’s attention.

“The name is Ardyn. _You’re_ the crown prince?” Izunia said, looking him up and down. The hand that wasn’t supporting his chin was wrapped around the neck of the bottle between them, rolling the base around the table. “You don’t look much like a Lucis Caelum, my boy.”

Noctis looked away, rubbing the back of his head. “I look a lot like my father. But…” He widened his eyes as he recognized the name. “Ardyn Izunia. You— really? The original Lucis Caelum.”

Ardyn lifted his eyebrows. He might have been impressed. “Well, it seems that I’ve been caught. I’m surprised that you recognize me. I suppose you learned about me in history?”

“My… advisor… was fascinated with your story,” Noctis recalled, tightening his grip on his own arm. “He used to tell me about Ardyn Izunia, the savior of the people, destroyer of the Starscourge. Betrayed by the gods, exiled by his own brother. Doomed to wander Eos for eternity. I thought it was just a bedtime story, but you’re real!”

“Thank you for the fascinating rendition of my horrid past,” Ardyn droned, taking another swig of rum. “I really needed that. I do, in fact, exist.”

Noctis flushed. “Sorry. I’m just… Ignis would… Can you really use magic?”

Ardyn pursed his lips. “It’s been a while, but yes.”

“I need your help,” he said. “The empire has taken over the kingdom and I need to take it back.”

“Why do I care?” Ardyn asked, tilting his head onto his fist. “It’s not my problem.”

Suddenly unsure, Noctis looked away. “I know it’s not. I don’t… I don’t have any way to convince you to help me. Outside of an IOU.”

“A favor from the Prince of Lucis,” Ardyn arched an eyebrow, leaning forward. He tilted the bottle around and adjusted his sleeve. “I suppose that could be considered reasonable recompense. Provided the terms are acceptable.”

Noctis widened his eyes. “… All right. Terms are, you help me take back Insomnia. Once that’s done, and the empire has left the city, in exchange for your help, I’ll sign a contract with you—an IOU, from you to me, personally, expiring the day I die, that promises that I’ll help you with a favor in the future. Within reason, decided by my advisor.”

The smile that crossed Ardyn’s lips as they shook hands sent shivers down his spine—he understood why this man freaked Prompto out so much. It felt like he was making a deal with the devil. Ominous.

“I do believe that we have an accord,” Ardyn said amiably. “I can certainly help you. The first order of business will be obtaining passage back to the city. I’m more than capable of getting you there, but I’ll need some time. Meet me outside in four hours and I’ll have secured a boat. Bring what you will, but be prepared. It will only get harder from here.”

“Thank you,” Noctis breathed, and left the bar with the distinct feeling that he was being watched. It didn’t matter—none of it did. He worked his jaw and steeled his nerves as he made it back to Prompto. The blond raised an eyebrow at him, and Noctis nodded.

“He’s in.”

\---

Cor glowered at his phone and watched the time shift from 8:32 to 8:33 AM, trying not to focus on Gladio pacing up and down the walkway in front of him. Ever since the display in front of the Citadel, he hadn’t been able to sit still, and it was grating on Cor’s last nerve.

“Gladio, cut it—”

The sound of a now familiar scream echoed through the floor, and Gladio flexed his fingers around the rails. He supposed it was an improvement over the way he’d punched the metal for the first dozen times.

“Never mind, continue.”

 Cor wouldn’t admit it, but he was feeling it just as much as Gladio was. Ignis wasn’t his friend, but he’d seen the young man grow up—the advisor had been a bit like a son to most older members of the Crownsguard, if an unusually mature, aloof one. He felt responsible for him. And now he had to stand by and do nothing while they hurt him for information that he didn’t have. He couldn’t access his weapons—he couldn’t take the squad of imperial soldiers between them and Ignis head on, no matter how much Gladiolus wanted to. It would get them both killed.

So they waited, and tried to come up with a plan through near-constant screams.

“I’m out of ideas,” Gladio growled, gripping the railing until his knuckles turned white. “We can’t get into the armory. Without swords, we’re sitting ducks. We could take out a few, between us, but…”

Cor exhaled roughly. “I know. We’re stuck here, unless something gives in a big way.”

Gladio hit the wall again. “I hate this! They’re gonna kill him!”

“No,” a new voice came from down the path, languid and bored. “They’re not going to get the chance. Cor and Gladiolus, I presume?”

Cor lifted his fists, preparing to fight. “Who are you?”

The man bowed, every movement exaggerated, and grinned. “Ardyn Izunia, at your service, and here to save you. Prince Noctis sends his regards.”


	10. Resolution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good guy Ardyn is my weakness, honestly.

“Noctis!”

The young prince turned at the sound of his Shield’s voice. He dropped his sword on the ground and let Gladio pull him off his feet and into a crushing hug.

“Gladio,” he breathed once he was let down. “Cor. It’s good to see you guys.”

The two men smiled, despite themselves—it was only when Cor came back to himself that he began frowning again. “You shouldn’t be here, highness.”

“I know,” Noctis sighed, shaking his head. “I know, but I saw—I saw the video. I need… I need to go save Ignis.”

Ardyn opened the armory door from the inside, wiping his hands off on the body of an imperial soldier that fell to the floor. He lifted an eyebrow at the sight of the three men outside, gesturing to the room he’d come from.

He bowed. “The armory, gentlemen.”

“You’re the man,” Noctis grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as he ran past him. He moved directly to the swords inside, picking up the one that he trained with and watching Gladio and Cor do the same. Ardyn waited patiently outside, hands crossed in front of him. “Where are they keeping him?”

Cor strapped a dagger to his thigh. “We don’t know for sure, but there was a lot of noise and a lot of guards on the thirteenth floor. That’s where we’re thinking he’s at.”

The four men made their way down the hall to the secret passages and then inside, climbing up to the thirteenth floor in silence. Once there, they exited into a side room, and Cor stopped them from going any further.

“All right. Here’s the deal—we don’t know what room he’s in, and we don’t know who’s around. We don’t want to let them call for backup. Get in, get out. Quick sweep of the rooms. If you find him, shout, and we’ll do our best to get him out of there. Not,” he said roughly, grabbing Noctis’ shoulder and forcing him to look at him, “at the expense of your life. If things get hairy, fall back. When we take care of this for good, he’ll be fine. Understood?”

Noctis wrinkled his nose but nodded anyway. Ignis would never forgive him if he died for him.

Cor hefted his sword and pushed the door open. He was pleasantly surprised to see that there were fewer soldiers in the hallway than there had been last time—there were only about a dozen, and based on the way Gladio was charging them, they wouldn’t last long. He watched Noctis take one from behind, while he fought the two that had been standing near their door.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one raise a gun to shoot at Ardyn. He turned to yell and warn him, only to see the man in two places—one Ardyn was widening his eyes as he noticed the man with a rifle, and the other was sneaking up behind him, lifting his flaming hand to grab the man’s head. He turned away and finished his own fight before he made contact; he wasn’t interested in watching someone die quite so terribly.

Once all twelve were down, they began checking rooms—one at a time, agonizingly slowly moving down the halls, until—

A scream echoed around them, drawing them to the end of the hall. Noctis ran faster than any of them, seeming to know exactly where he was going based only on the noise. He took off sprinting down the hall, a name caught in his throat.

Noctis threw a door open and saw his advisor—he didn’t hesitate, even for a second, to cross the room in a blur of movement and stab the man standing over Ignis’ body, pinning him to the wall with his sword. Cor bit down a proud smile and hurried over, watching him untie Ignis’ hands.

Once he managed to tear himself away from the man, Noctis knelt at Ignis’ side, gingerly cradling his head in his lap. His wounds looked bad—aside from the three deep slashes across his arm, he was covered in mottled bruises and other cuts. The worst of it, though, and what had obviously caused the final pained scream, were the burn marks crossing his face, centered around his left eye.

Noctis couldn’t hold back the sob that finally wrenched itself free. “Ignis…”

“H-Highness,” the man rasped, voice broken and barely there from days of abuse. Ignis’ hand made it up to Noctis’ cheek, leaving shaky trails of blood where his fingers had been. “You… You’re safe. Are you alright?”

He shook his head, crying freely. “You’re an idiot. I’m fine—how can you be worried about me?”

Ignis managed a smile, somehow. “You know how.”

The cryptic statement left Cor reeling, feeling oddly like he was intruding on something he shouldn’t be watching. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to look away as Noctis ran a gentle hand through his advisor’s hair, sobbing quietly.

“Oh, Ignis… I’m so sorry, I never meant… It’s all my _fault_ …”

“Hush, now,” Ignis murmured, wiping the tears from Noctis’ cheek. It took more out of him than he’d expected, but it was worth the energy. It always would be. “Don’t cry for me. I’m alright. You did what you had to, and for that, I can never fault you.”

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” Noctis allowed himself one last whine as he held Ignis’ hand to his cheek before taking a deep breath, looking to Cor. “Take me to the throne room. I’m ending this.”

“Highness…” Cor frowned, but stopped upon seeing a resolution in Noctis’ eyes that he’d never seen before. He nodded. “All right.”

Noctis squeezed Ignis’ hand and settled it on the ground, looking to Ardyn. “Can you help him?”

Ardyn gave him a look that suggested he was vaguely offended that he would even ask. “Healing is what I _do_ … your highness. Leave him to me—I’ll do what I can. He’ll survive.”

“Who is that?” Ignis asked quietly, eyes still sealed shut. Noctis wiped his sleeve over his eyes and stood.

“This is Ardyn. He’s going to help,” Noctis said, in a voice that said in no uncertain terms that there would be hell to pay if something went wrong.

Ardyn rolled his eyes, shooing him out of the room. “Go on, out with you. All of you. I need silence.”

Noctis nodded at him one last time before following Cor and Gladio out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He took a long breath to steady his nerves, steadfastly ignoring the blood on his pants and hands. He looked to Cor.

“Let’s go. We’re taking the emperor out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I was going to give the interrogator some time to speak, but... that didn't happen, so a line I was really looking forward to writing never made it in. For your viewing pleasure, I bring you: Ignis continuing to be sassy in the face of debilitating pain.
> 
> "I have something to tell you. It's about Noct, I swear-- come here. *pause* Fuck you."


	11. Confrontation

Noctis was pulled bodily into the throne room and slammed to his knees before the emperor. He nearly growled, pulling his bound hands from the guard that had dragged him in with a glare. He was tired of being manhandled—first Nyx, and now this guy. The man simply drew his sword and pointed it at his back to hold him still, and Noctis paled. It seemed that he’d officially lost the element of surprise—the entire imperial army would have found out by now that he was in the Citadel.

He looked around, eyes everywhere but on the man sitting on his father’s throne.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” Aldercapt crooned. “Prince Noctis. How nice of you to finally join us. Your father has missed you terribly these long six days. What made you change your mind?”

“You hurt someone I care about,” Noctis snarled.

Aldercapt laughed lightly, waving his hand. “Ah, yes—a stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The boy—Ignis, was it? —will be rewarded for his assistance with your capture. I should tell them to put the poor child out of his misery.”

Noctis shook his head, eyes widening in horror. “Don’t! You have me—let him go. The only mistake he ever made was agreeing to serve a pitiful excuse for a prince like me.”

“How very gracious of you,” Aldercapt mused. “You would spare the life of one so below your station at no benefit to you. It’s very noble of you. Stirring, even. You would have made a wonderful king, Noctis. A pity that your father couldn’t defend his own territory long enough for you to inherit it.”

“Don’t talk about him like that.”

He nearly snorted. “Why shouldn’t I? A failed monarch, lost to his own weakness—he can barely get out of his own bed.”

“Let history be the judge of failed rulers,” Noctis said, pushing himself to his feet despite the sword at his back. He took a breath just as a crash came from outside. Noctis grinned. “My father will not be one of them.”

The doors slammed open, and within moments, the half dozen guards inside, save the one behind him, were dead.

“Guards!”

The man that had brought him in chuckled, cutting through Noctis’ restraints as he said, “You may have missed your calling. That was an astounding performance, highness.”

“Thanks,” the prince laughed, taking the offered sword. “But then there would be no prince. Go find dad and Clarus, will you? Gladio and I will finish up here.”

Cor hurried off towards the king’s chambers. Aldercapt, for his part, looked remarkably calm as a large group of soldiers ran in. “Just the two of you? Against the Imperial army?”

“We don’t have to take out the army. Just you,” Noctis said, and began fighting his way to Gladio. He hadn’t had to fight so intently in many years—he’d definitely have to start up training with Cor and Gladio again. He wrinkled his nose at the thought, and in his distraction, he didn’t notice a soldier lurch to kick his legs out from under him.

Noctis hit the ground hard. Winded and dazed, he couldn’t move fast enough to stop the sword falling quickly towards his face. He thought vaguely that he was going to die, and then—

“Noct!”

A spot of red appeared on the soldier’s chest plate, followed immediately by dripping blood. Seconds later, the man was jump-kicked from the side, and suddenly, Noctis was being pulled up, face-to-face with Nyx.

“Hey, little man. Need some help?”

“Sure,” Noctis breathed, picking his sword back up. “You have a gun?”

Nyx shook his head and pointed back to the balcony, where a familiar head of blond hair shook as its owner waved before going back to sniping imperial soldiers with frightening accuracy. Noctis barked out a laugh.

“Prom?”

“And me!” Libertus cried, ending up back to back with Nyx as they each took out their own soldier.

Another form flipped over them, landing nimbly before kicking a few men in the head, knocking them back long enough for Nyx to slice through their armor. Crowe stood and bowed with a grin. “Me, too. How are you doin’, Noct?”

“Better, now that you guys are here,” he smiled, and went back to fighting.

Gladio made it around to Noctis and killed a few soldiers around him, lifting an eyebrow. “Who are these guys?”

“They’re our friends,” Noctis snorted, quoting a movie he’d once seen with Ignis back in the day.

Looking off to his left, he saw Aldercapt hiding behind the throne—he needed to get over there, but how? He absentmindedly stabbed a man, and then—

“Aldercapt!”

His father descended from somewhere out of sight and stabbed the emperor from above, embedding his sword in the floor. He cried out in victory, raising his fist into the air.

Noctis grinned, turning to face the throne. “Dad!”

“Enough!” Regis called, using a voice that he hadn’t heard since… well, he couldn’t remember. He commanded complete attention of the room; it fell silent, the sounds of combat ringing through the chamber long after the fighting had ceased. “Citizens of the Empire, leave my city at once. Your leader is dead, and with it will come a new reign for Niflheim—but it is not to begin with the deaths of you innocent soldiers. Take your dead and dying. Return to Gralea with the stories of this failure and leave Insomnia in peace.”

There was very little movement from anyone until Regis knocked his staff on the floor. It sent the soldiers into motion, fleeing the scene as quickly as possible. Once the room was clear, Noctis ran over, pulling his father into a hug.

“Dad!”

“Noctis,” Regis whispered, breathing shakily. He dropped his staff, reaching up to tangle trembling fingers in his son’s hair and shirt. “My son. I’m so glad you’re safe.”

They stood in each other’s embrace for a long moment, only letting go when Clarus cleared his throat, suggesting that it had extended past an acceptable time. Regis sighed, keeping an arm wrapped around Noctis’ shoulder, anyway, and looked out to the small crowd that had gathered. He lifted an eyebrow.

“Someone’s missing, it seems. Where is Ignis?”

Noctis bit his lip, looking to Cor expectantly.

“Majesty, Ignis is…”

“I’m right here,” the young man called, letting Ardyn support him as he limped into the room. On a second look, he thought they might have been supporting each other. To Noctis’ relief, he wasn’t bleeding anymore, and he’d managed to wrap one of the dead soldier’s coats around his shoulders. The scarring on his eyes was nearly gone, but he still hadn’t opened them. “I apologize if I’ve worried you.”

“What… happened?” Regis breathed, and Noctis just shook his head, squeezing his arm.

Gladio made his way to them, clapping a hand gently on Ignis’ shoulder. “You okay, man?”

“Quite well, thanks to everyone here,” Ignis said, but Noctis didn’t miss the way he shied away slightly from the affection. He expected that would be a problem later. For now, though, he chose to focus on the positives: he was alive. Up and walking. Well enough to lie. “My eyes… I’m afraid they’re still a bit sensitive to light, so it could be a while before I can open them. I will actually _need_ glasses, most likely. Otherwise, I’m only a little sore. Ardyn Izunia is truly a worker of miracles, just as the stories say.”

“And exhausted,” Ardyn cut in, rolling his eyes. “Can we cut this short—or at least move to somewhere more comfortable? I haven’t healed such extensive damage to another person in centuries.”

Regis nodded, gesturing towards a room off to the right that Noctis recognized as a sitting room. “Of course. Let us move in here—a rest is long overdue, I think. For everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray! It's over! Who here recognized my Advent Children reference?


	12. Epilogue

One year later…

\---

“What would you like me to do?” Noctis asked, resting his chin on the heel of his hand. It was a very lackadaisical way to hold himself, but right now, he had nobody to impress. “Somebody has cleared my schedule for the remainder of the day, and I’ll give you three guesses who, first two don’t count. I can't figure out why, though. But if you need something…”

Gladiolus rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “Yeah, I’d _like_ you to get your kingly ass to the training room, but unfortunately, I’m under orders. You need to go back to your wing.”

Noctis wrinkled his nose. “I was just going to nap here, though…”

“Now,” his Shield said sternly, but not unkindly. “Go on. You have people expecting you.”

“Why?” Noctis muttered, forcing himself to stand and make his way back down the Citadel halls. He couldn't figure it out—there wasn’t anything going on, and yet the entire place was nearly empty, and his schedule was clear for the first time since he’d taken the throne. When he made it back to his wing, he turned the lights on in the sitting room, nearly jumping at the crowd of people that jumped up.

“Surprise!”

He blinked once, twice—and then laughed, low and full-bodied, sending the room into cheers. Prompto clicked a few pictures before saying, “Happy birthday, Noct! Twenty-two already.”

“Time flies,” Noctis flushed, scratching the back of his head. “Thank you, everyone. You really didn't have to do this.

“But of course we did,” Regis said from where he sat cross-legged on the couch. He smiled as Noctis approached and leaned up to give him a hug. “We couldn’t very well let the King of Lucis go without a proper birthday party!”

“Dad…”

“What he means is,” Gladio said, clapping him on the shoulder, “we all love you and wanted you to have a good time. Shiva knows we earned it. So happy birthday, kid.”

Regis shook his head fondly. “Yes, exactly that. That’s exactly what I meant to say.”

Noctis grinned, eyes scanning the room. He had so many people to greet—it seemed like everyone was there. Cor, Nyx, Libertus, and Crowe—even Ardyn had dragged himself out of the royal wine cellar to instead drink the champagne offered, not that he looked incredibly pleased at the crowd of happy people. His smile turned into a frown as he noticed something wrong.

“Someone's missing,” he said, voice seeming hollow. “Where’s Ignis?”

Humming, Regis tilted his chin to the side, gesturing subtly to the next room. “He planned this whole thing—gathered everyone, decorated, even made the food. I expect he’s tired.”

_And a little overwhelmed,_ went unsaid, but Noctis got it anyway. He nodded and excused himself, leaving the party to continue without him for a few minutes. He knocked quietly on the next door, holding his breath. When he got no answer, he opened it, looking around to see if his advisor was there at all.

Sure enough, Ignis was there, standing on the balcony facing away from him. He was probably watching the clouds, Noctis mused, noting the way his shoulders were so relaxed. He hated to bother him.

“Noctis, it's rude to stare.”

Noctis flushed and approached, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry. I didn't want to disturb you.”

“You know you could never disturb me,” Ignis smiled gently, giving him a look out of the corner of his eye. “Happy birthday. Shouldn't you be at the party?”

“Shouldn’t you?” Noctis asked. They both knew why he wasn’t, though, so they dropped it. One day, Noctis thought, he’d figure out how to broach the topic without getting deflected. “Thank you.”

Ignis lifted an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For…” Noctis exhaled. “For setting that up. It means a lot.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but based on the glint behind his advisor's glasses, he figured that he knew. Ignis knew him better than he knew himself.

“Of course,” he replied, voice soft.

They stood in silence, the wind gently tousling their clothes and hair.

“Specs?”

Ignis cracked a grin at the old nickname, looking down. “Yes, Noctis?”

“Let's play some board games later,” he suggested. “When was the last time we played anything together?”

“Thirteen years, seven months—”

“Whoa, I wasn’t being serious,” Noctis laughed. He pressed his lips together, thoughtful. “Has it really been that long?”

Ignis shrugged like he didn't know, except Ignis knew everything. Noctis sighed. “So?”

“That… sounds like fun,” Ignis conceded, and Noctis grinned, jumping up excitedly.

“Really? Yes!”

Ignis' smile would have been cryptic to anyone else. He moved to bow, hand over his heart.

“Of course, Noct. Whatever His Majesty desires.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally over for real! I'm so happy. Honestly, I'm not super proud of it yet, so I'll be rewriting it eventually, but for now, my brain is no longer in danger of melting (from this). It's been fun, though-- I'd forgotten how fun writing fanfiction could be. I never expected it to get so crazy...! Thanks for sticking with me, and stay tuned for a much better story! ... Eventually.
> 
> Your comments give me life ^^


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